


The World At Large

by oksnaeke



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Other, abandoned island
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18553978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oksnaeke/pseuds/oksnaeke
Summary: discontinued honk honk





	1. Jew Vore

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like im gona get bullied for this fic especially by mia but here's the first chapter gamers!!!

Kyle hadn't really experienced terror as great and overwhelming as he did just a few minutes ago. 30,000 feet in the air, he sat, window seat, staring out into a whole lot of nothing. Everything within view was plain- from the overwhelming darkness of the sky to the sea below, it was monochrome black and oddly symbolic to the trip as a whole.

Unsurprisingly, the entirety of the makeshift vacation sucked ass, since the school had blown all its money on the plane tickets rather than a decent hotel and actual activities for the day. Nothing really happened the whole time, and for the most part it was rainy, since they’d gone in the middle of spring. They stayed for half a week, and then, on the plane back, some sort of godforesaken creature had plunged itself directly into one of the engines.

There was a sudden burst of turbulence that never really went away, and things went quickly downhill from there. The lights flickered and died as the world outside began to get louder and the plane started a steady decline into the water.

The captain spoke over the intercom, somehow still in that casual-suave-style, “Everyone aboard should prepare to get wet, especially the flight attendant Suzie, haha... because we’re about to crash into the ocean.”

Immediate panic set in as Cartman grabbed Kyle’s arm for dear life and screamed like a toddler at the receiving end of a dog in heat. Tears and snot ran down his face and got all over Kyle’s jacket as he buried his face into his shoulder, which only partially obscured his screaming. Kyle wasn’t too pumped himself, and, despite the fact he’d never admit it, he held Cartman’s arm and screamed, too.  Stan, for the most part, had fucking ascended in the seat next to them. Eyes glazed with shock and knuckles white on the seat handles, he realized he’d wasted his life, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about that now. Kenny had gotten up from where he was sitting and went to pat Stan’s shoulder.

 

-

 

And then they were on the ground. The ground? Kyle looked around the cabin. It was still dark, but the moonlight that streamed in through the windows was enough for him to slowly get a grip on his surroundings. There was a gaping hole on the side of the plane’s wall, which opened up to a sea of dark greens and the sound of insects chirping nearby. Most everyone around him was unconscious, he hoped, and no one seemed to be getting up anytime soon.

He tried to stand, but got caught on his seat belt. With unfeeling fingers, he undid it, pushed Cartman’s snoring body off of him, and got to his feet. He wasn’t quite standing, since most of his weight was being carried by his arms clinging to the seat in front of him, but it was a start. Ever so slowly, he lifted his legs over Cartman, over Stan, over Kenny’s body, and through the gash in the plane. The night air had a strange warmth that was lost on South Park, and the humidity caked over Kyle’s face like a wet towel. He half-stood, half-leaned, on the side of the destroyed wall, and looked out into the dense jungle surrounding him. A gust of wind swept through the trees as the leaves sighed and Kyle’s hair got just a little bit more messed up. He went to adjust his position against the plane, but in the process, wound up cutting his left hand.

“Shit!” he said, yanking it from the wall. He pressed his right palm hard against the cut, gritting his teeth. Not many things could make him bleed as heavily or as painfully as right now these days, and even though it hurt like hell, it almost felt like a breath of fresh air. It was something new. Not something he’d want to ever have happen again, because of how much of a pain in the ass it was, but was still, strangely, a relief.

He figured he might try going out into the foliage to find something to stop the bleeding besides his palm. He went off into the grass, but ended up falling like a fucking idiot flat on his face. Right.

He tried to get up, which consisted mostly of a desperate squirm in the dirt and a sharp pang in his left hand. He was sure that now that the cleanliness of the wound had most definitely reached a point of no return as dirt found its way into every crevice of his palm, and was most likely setting up shop in his hand for a whole array of painful infections.

Despite the adamant protest in his mind, he was exhausted. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to get up, he most certainly did, but every movement he made felt like pure agony. It didn't help that the vague pain in his hand was the second most attention-grabbing thing to him behind just how truly and completely tired he was.

His muscles finally relaxed against the forest floor and he let his eyelids slowly close. He couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of him because of all the wildlife tree bullshit going on, anyway. Maybe it’d be best just to stay here for a while- just wait out the throbbing in his hand. He’d find a way to wash the bugs and shit out of his hair in the morning.

 

-

 

Dead bodies stink a lot faster than you’d think they would.

Stan eyed Kenny’s corpse that sat strangely placid in the aisle. Kids were starting to wake up all around the cabin, whispering among themselves and gasping at the world outside. Stan hadn’t moved much since he’d woken up- really just the occasional head turn here and there- and wasn’t really looking to go anywhere anytime soon. Token stared at him from a few seats ahead, bug eyed and a little bloody from the broken glass of his row’s window.

“Stan?” Token asked.

“Token?” Stan responded. Even in times like this, he was still a dick.

“Oh- you’re alive. Okay, good.” Token paused, studying Stan’s face. “You’ve, uh,” He pointed to the corner of his mouth, “Got some shit there.”

“Really?” Stan went to wipe his mouth, but when he pulled his hand back there was nothing.

“Other side.”

This time, there was dried blood.

“Oh, gross.”

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence. They sat awkwardly staring at each other, until Token cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna go make sure Clyde’s alive.”

“Yeah, I gotta find Kyle,” Stan said, looking to his left. Cartman was still there, but Kyle had apparently disappeared. “uh,” Stan started again, but Token had long since went off to another row of seats. Reality finally began to set in as he unbuckled his seat belt, opening himself up to whatever old-timey South Park bullshit was waiting for him.

He stood and made his way to the gaping hole in the side of the plane. He’d almost forgotten about Kenny’s corpse lying in the aisle, but stepping over it sure did the trick for jogging his memory. Bile ran up his throat as he shot his hand to his mouth, whipping his head away from the sight and slamming his eyes shut. The smell was horrible, and was only amplified by the sticky, hot air. Squinting, he avoided eye contact with Kenny, and moved out into the daylight.

Kyle had somehow wound up face down, in the dirt. Stan had a momentary blip of shock before shaking him, and causing Kyle to groan. Stan figured he felt relieved.

“I thought you were dead.”

“God, I wish,” Kyle said. Stan found that funny, but for some reason he didn’t laugh. “Hey, also,” Kyle said, turning over in the dirt to face him, “where the hell are we?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Is Cartman up?”

“Why do you care?”

“I dunno, Stan. ‘Cause he’s our friend? I mean-"

“I’m pretty sure he’s alive but I didn’t really bother to check.” Stan cut him off before he could do an entire monologue.

They didn’t have to wait long to find out. Cartman barged out of the hole in the plane in a very Cartman way.

“What're you fags doing?” Cartman said, more than asked.

“Awh, thought you were dead. What a travesty. Could’ve vored you for food.”

Well, that was a quick change of heart.

“Hey, that’s fucking gross, Kahl. If anything, I’d vore you, since eating Jews gives you superpowers.”

Stan spoke before Kyle could respond, “Sometimes I just wanna know what the fuck is going on, you know? I mean, Jew vore?”

Cartman shrugged. “Ask Kahl, he’s the one who said it.”

“You literally just came up with it right now.”

“You’re the one who was talking about vore!”

“It was a joke, Cartman!”

Of course. They were doing it even now, when they were probably going to die in the middle of fuckall nowhere.

“Well!” Stan said, abruptly breaking the bickering fight. “I’m gonna go see if I can find any civilization or whatever so-“

“Good idea, I’ll come with,” Kyle said, sitting up.

“Ugh, I guess I’ll go, too, if you insist. Hey did you guys see Kenny’s dead body back there? Totally gross, right? I moved his arm to make it look like he was dabbing.”

“That’s fucking disgusting, Cartman! Kenny was our friend!”

The bickering continued. Stan felt himself die inside.


	2. S..Swag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ruh roh this one's a teensy tinsy bit, dare i say, HomoSexuAle........ heteros beware

It occurred to Kyle that, before now, he’d only seen the ocean once.

It was a lot less exciting than everyone made it out to be. Waves slowly rolled up on the sand then crashed back into each other, and while that was calming to some degree, it was uncomfortable to be in direct sunlight. He considered unzipping his jacket, but he figured he’d be uncomfortable that way, too.

He craned his neck to see past the trees, and was able to gauge that there was probably no one there but them. There were no huts hidden in the foliage, from what he could tell, and by the looks of it, the supposed island wasn’t that big, either. The chances that they somehow ended up an abandoned strip of land were slim to none, but there they were, weren’t they? Kyle prayed nothing would get out of hand, but a part of him thought it’d be a nice blast from the past to have an out-of-control adventure again. Just to shake things up. If he was lucky, then maybe Cartman would throw his meds into the ocean, and they’d be up to their bullshit like old times... Which was sarcasm. Eric was only an antisemite with meds, which he could handle, but without them, he was a homicidal, insane, fuckhead. Kyle wasn’t too keen on dying, especially not by the hands of Eric-fucking-Cartman, so he pushed the thought out of his head.

He almost didn’t see Kenny hanging out by the edge of the water until he was right in front of him.

“Hey Kenny,” Kyle said. Kenny looked up from his drawing he was making in the sand.

“Mh, mphhf mhph!” that was Kenny language for “Oh, hey Kyle!” After about a decade and a half of being Kenny’s friend, Kyle was fluent.

“What’re you doing?” Kyle asked.

“Mpphh mpfh, mph mphphn mph mpfh mmph mpfh, (Nothing much, just fucking around with this stick.)”

“Cool.”

Kyle instinctively put his hands in his jacket pockets. His left palm jolted upon impact, whipping involuntarily back out into the open. The cut was a lot deeper than he thought it’d been, and had only gotten worse than when he’d last looked at it. At least it didn’t hurt that much.

“(What’s that?)” Kenny asked.

“Nothing,” Kyle said, putting his hand into his pocket more carefully this time. Kenny probably didn't want to hear about his pathetic fucked up hand speech, so there wasn't any reason to elaborate. “Wanna go explore?”

“(Sure. Where’s Stan?)”

“Somewhere else on the island. He said we should split up.”

“(Why?)”

“I dunno. It doesn’t matter. C'mon.”

Kenny scurried to his feet- much like a rat, Kyle noted- and positioned himself at his side. They went off walking down the beach, and even though they had known each other for as long as they had, they never had anything to talk about. This made Kyle deeply uncomfortable, so he struck up a conversation with the most basic and unassuming icebreaker known to man.

“How’s your day going?” Kyle asked.

“(Not so great. I died when we crashed, which was lame.)”

“I think we all collectively died a little bit when we crashed.”

“(No but I really died.)”

“Haha, same.”

They were back to stage one. As far as Kyle was concerned, any and all lapses in conversation were signs that something was horribly wrong; whether that be the friendship or circumstances, it was always something. This proved to be untrue many times, but really, whose to say?

He assumed Kenny probably hated him. It wasn’t rational, he knew that, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone- not even just Kenny- secretly wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Kenny, no matter how hard he tried, was not an exception. Everything was cruel, and ugly, and terrible, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that, or even Kyle’s mind about it, and Kenny certainly couldn’t just-

“(I saw a really funky turtle just a little while ago.)”

But he sure did have a funny way of rocking Kyle’s entire fucking world.

“(Like it was really funky. Groovy, even. Totally radical. Insanely redonkulous. Astoundingly bonkers.)”

What the fuck

“(Probably the most funky fresh swag-)”

“I’m gonna stop you at ‘swag’.”

“(What? You got a problem with swag? Swaggy swagalicio-)”

“That’s so disgusting, Kenny, stop.”

“(Sorry my swag is punking you out.)”

“Oh my god.”

“(Oh my swag, actually. Because swag is God.)”

“Okay, Kenny.”

“(Bet.)”

It was quiet again. Kyle didn’t feel as bad this time, though.

 


End file.
